


Betsy and the Baseball Season

by katayla



Category: Betsy-Tacy Series - Maud Hart Lovelace
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katayla/pseuds/katayla
Summary: A baseball AU.





	Betsy and the Baseball Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spyglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyglass/gifts).



The first time Betsy met Joe Willard was at the press conference to introduce the new Brewers' general manager. She knew who he was, of course. He'd been hired to replace the recently retired Poppy as the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel beat writer. They'd made the announcement last week and she'd immediately googled him. Young, handsome, and an Ivy League graduate. She'd ask what he was doing here, but she hoped she knew: baseball. That's why she was here. Because all her life she'd dreamed of two things: writing and baseball. And for two years, she'd been doing just that as the Brewers' social media manager.

Joe was sitting in the front row. Betsy took her usual seat in the back row, next to Winona and Denny, the radio broadcasters. 

"Met the new guy yet?" Betsy asked. "He's cute."

"He's a woman hater," Winona said.

"What do you care?" Dennie asked, tugging on Winona's braid. 

Winona shoved at him and Betsy, as always, contemplated snapping a picture of them and sharing it with the Brewers' online fan base. Winona and Dennie were always professional on the air, but played hard when they weren't on radio.

Instead, she abandoned them, walked up to the first row, took the seat next to Joe and smiled her brightest smile. "Hi! I'm Betsy."

Joe shook her hand. "Joe Willard, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel."

"It's great to meet you! We all miss Poppy but it's great to get some new faces in here. I'm the social media manager, so I'm a good person to talk to if you want to know anything about . . . anything."

Joe nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." 

And he went back to his computer. Betsy slumped in her chair a little. It was a long season and they would be spending a lot of time together. It was much better when they were all friends.

Well, she would work on Joe Willard later. For now, new general manager Harry Kerr was walking in the room.

At 30 years old, Harry was by far the youngest GM in the league. He was also the third new Brewer GM in five years, but the way he talked, you could almost believe he was taking over a perennial playoff contender instead of a team that had reached .500 only once in those five years. He made it easy to enthusiastically update Twitter throughout the press conference. He wanted to make the fanbase _believe_. Which made her job easier. She sighed, though, as the replies to her tweets started coming in.

_Yeah, yeah, heard it before._

_He knows this job is a death sentence, right?_

Betsy opened a new tab on her computer and snuck a glance at Joe. He was updating Twitter, too, but with only the facts, as befit a beat writer who didn't have to keep the fans excited.

"What did you think?" Betsy asked Joe, as the press conference wrapped up.

He typed a few more words in an open document before turning to her. "He's got something," Joe said. "But I'm not judging until I see the product."

"Is that what you're going to tell your readers?"

Joe didn't answer right away. "I'm a beat writer, not a columnist. My opinion doesn't matter."

Betsy shrugged. "Readers like seeing some of your personality."

"It's not part of the job," Joe said.

"Well, we're all glad you're here," Betsy said. "A bunch of us media folks are gathering at the Moonlight to drink and catch up. You're welcome to join us."

Joe closed his laptop and stood up. "I have to work."

He was at the end of the aisle before he turned and said, "It was nice to meet you."

So maybe Joe Willard wasn't a total loss, Betsy mused to herself. At least he'd made half an effort.

*

Betsy's phone buzzed and she groaned. "That Harry Kerr!"

Her friends laughed. They'd gotten used to being interrupted by the Brewers' latest move any time they hung out with Betsy. Harry Kerr seemed determined to remake the entire roster.

This time, Betsy actually gasped when she read the text. "Carney!" She handed her phone across the table.

Carney read it and paled. "Okay."

"What?" Tib asked, snatching the phone. "Oh."

Tacy looked over Tib's shoulder. "Oh."

The text read. "Just signed Larry Humphreys. Graphics coming soon."

Larry Humphreys had won the Cy Young two years in a row . . . and was Carney's college sweetheart. They'd dated until Larry had been drafted by the Angels junior year. Practical Carney hadn't been willing to keep the relationship going with the double challenges of distance and Larry's heavy baseball schedule.

Tacy and Betsy and Tib exchanged glances.

"Stop it," Carney said, "I haven't seen Larry in years."

Betsy's phone beeped again, with the promotional graphic. She quickly attached it to the tweet and posted, _Welcome to the Brewers!_

"It's like fate," Betsy said, not looking up from her phone as the faves and retweets started coming in. 

"Good for the team, too," Tib said. She, too, worked for the Brewers, as a scout. Usually, she was the busy one in the offseason, but this year, Kerr was keeping Betsy just as busy.

"Well, that settles it," Tacy said. "We are definitely coming to spring training."

Carney rolled her eyes, but didn't protest.

*

Betsy crouched on the ground, zoomed in on the baseball laying in the grass, and quickly took five pictures.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning her phone to Tacy and Carney and flipping through the photos.

"I think they're all great," Carney said.

Betsy frowned. "But which one is the best? This is the first shot of spring training. I need to get people excited."

"They are already excited."

"About Larry," Betsy said, with a lightning fast look at Carney, who made a swipe at her.

"Let me see," Tacy said. She took the phone from Betsy. "Here, this one."

"Are you--"

"YES," Carney and Tacy said together.

"Okay, okay." Betsy looked down at the picture Tacy had selected. The ball was in the corner of the screen and the rest of the screen was filled with bright green grass. She quickly typed a tweet:

_Welcome Back!_

*

Spring training progressed slowly, as it usually did. The pitchers and catchers showed up, including Sam Hutchinson, the catching prospect who never quite pulled it all together.

"So is this the year you break out?" Betsy asked, as Sam pulled on his catching gear.

"Not you, too," Sam said. "That new guy was all over me about my off season routine."

"Joe?" Betsy asked.

"Yeah, said he knew I could pull it all together if I put in a little more work."

Betsy swung her feet. "He says he's a beat writer and isn't paid for his opinions."

Sam shrugged. "Guess it was a freebie."

Joe was right, though. Sam loved baseball, but he didn't put in the work some did. His talent carried him far, but he hadn't taken the next step into super stardom and, most of the time, it didn't seem to bother him.

Betsy followed him out and watched as he exchanged warm up tosses with Larry. All eyes were on Larry, of course. Cameras flashed and keyboards typed and Betsy posted pictures on Twitter and Facebook.

She also watched Tacy and Carney in the stands. They, too, had their eyes on Larry. Tacy nudged Carney and Carney shook her head.

Betsy made her way over to them. "Looking good," she said.

"I'll put him down for Cy Young number 3," Tacy said.

"He'll have them lining up for miles," Betsy said.

Carney sighed.

"So you're fans?" Harry Kerr sat down on the other side of Tacy. "Hi," he said to her.

Tacy blushed.

"Hi Harry," Betsy said, and introduced him to her friends.

"Tell me," Harry said, turning towards Tacy. "What do you think of our new star?"

Tacy looked at Betsy--she'd never been good with strangers--and then said, "I've always been a fan." Then she grinned. "Going to tell us how you convinced him to sign?"

"Not with our social media manager here," Harry said.

Betsy looked at Tacy and then looked at Carney. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Well!" Carney said, as they walked away. "That'll teach you to tease _me_ about romance."

Betsy glanced back. "You don't think she wanted us to stay, do you?"

And then Tacy's laughter peeled out behind them.

"Okay then," Betsy said.

"Cheer up," Carney said. "Someone should get some romance at spring training."

And Betsy did her very best not to look around for Joe.

*

Spring training meant Salty Seniorita after the day's activities wrapped up. Betsy, Tacy, and Carney grabbed a table not too near the bar.

"This seat taken?" Sam asked, and slid in next to Carney. Well, Betsy _had_ been hoping Larry would show up, but she liked Sam.

And Sam soon had their table laughing, so hard that Betsy almost didn't notice when Larry _did_ show up, standing by their table.

"Humphreys!" Sam said. "Pull up a chair."

And Larry did, looking a little stiff. Funny that. He looked so graceful on the baseball field, but a little awkward off of it. She remembered that from college, too.

"You know everyone?" Sam asked.

"Oh yes," Betsy said. "We go _way_ back with Larry."

"We knew him when he was 18," Tacy said. "Trying to grow a mustache to look like his fake ID--"

"--and no one ever asked for it because everyone knew exactly who he was."

And Betsy and Tacy mock squealed. "Give us your autograph, Larry!"

Sam chuckled. "I take it you went to college together?"

"Yes," Larry said, looking at Carney.

Carney took another sip of her beer. She'd been laughing at Sam with the rest of them, but hadn't said a word since Larry joined the table.

"Come on, Larry," Sam said. "Use some of your millions to buy us another round."

Sam winked at Betsy and the two guys made their way to the bar.

"Carney!" Betsy hissed across the table. "You know he came over here to see you."

"You have to say something!" Tacy said.

Carney shrugged. "It's been a really long time. What if we don't have anything left to say?"

Betsy turned her eyes on Tacy. "Then I guess we'll have to depend on someone else for romance this spring training."

And Tacy blushed.

*

Spring training was so long. Betsy remembered that every year and forgot it every year.

"It doesn't mean anything," Joe said to her, after the Brewers won yet another game.

"I know," Betsy said.

"Your posts don't," Joe said.

"Don't tell me you started following me."

"Job requirement," Joe said.

"Ha," Betsy said. Then she went on, "I'm a team employee. Optimism is the way we go. And . . ."

"What?" Joe asked.

"It's not all bad," Betsy said. "There's something here."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe."

Betsy smiled. "From you, that's a huge endorsement."

And it was true. Joe's stories were very well-written. Objective and to the point. But he made no secret of the fact that the Brewers' last few years weren't impressive. As if he had to tell her. She was the one who had documented those years. Looking for the silver lining. Pretending that they were on the verge of breaking out. And then bringing out the "wait til next year" stories when summer was barely half over.

"We'll see," Joe said.

*

Carney sat alone at spring training on the last day of her and Tacy's vacation. Tacy had gone off somewhere with Harry. Betsy kept an eye on Carney and, eventually, she saw Larry approach her, swing over the fence and sit in the seat next to her.

Ever so casually, Betsy moved slightly their way, making sure to keep her eyes on her phone.

"How do you like being back?" Carney asked.

"You know I always wanted to play for the Brewers," Larry said.

"Yes," Carney said. "We had it all planned out, didn't we?"

Larry grinned a crooked grin at her. "It's good to see you again, Carney."

"You too," Carney said.

But neither of them said anything else and, after a while, Betsy let her attention drift.

*

"Where are your friends?" Joe asked the next day.

"Something about going back to Milwaukee for jobs that don't involve watching baseball . . .." Betsy said.

And Joe grinned. "Never heard of such a thing."

Sam, too, asked her about Carney and Tacy and Harry, well, Betsy took a brief video of him talking about the Brewers' hot spring training start and then he said. "Hey, your friend Tacy? I'm going to marry her."

And then he walked off, whistling, leaving Betsy staring after him. 

(Later, she skyped Tacy, who laughed and blushed, and changed the conversation.)

*

"I'm just going to post my own roster and see if anyone notices," Betsy said.

"Is it usual for them to wait this long?" Joe asked.

Betsy sat back in her chair. "Who knows! New manager, new GM. We could be waiting all night."

"Well, they do have a deadline," Joe said.

Betsy hesitated and then decided that she would try just one more time. "What are you doing after you finish your article?"

"Working."

"You can't always be working," Betsy said. "Don't you ever--"

And she stopped because she just didn't know where the boundaries were. Joe was friendly with everyone, but it only went so far. She didn't know much more than she had googled when his name was announced. But he couldn't be working all day and all night.

And then Stewie came into the media room and announced the 25 man roster and they really _were_ working.

"One drink?" Betsy asked, when she saw Joe hit the "post" button. "It's a long season. Let's not be strangers."

Joe ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't--I need to prove myself," he said. "I'm not like the rest of you. I'm new here."

"One drink," Betsy said. "And then you can hate us forever."

Joe stared at her. "I don't hate you."

"Joe, we're all going to spend many long hours together. Trust me. Come out with me and Dennie and Winona and get to know us a little."

So Joe followed Betsy out.

He only stayed for one drink, but he cracked a few jokes and smiled at Betsy when he took his leave.

*

And then it was opening day, all of a sudden, as always happened. Betsy spent it posting pictures and drumming up excitement. It was a sellout, but she knew better than to count on that continuing. It was easy to feel excitement that first day of the season. But then the team wouldn't hit or the pitcher would come out in the second and the stands would empty and she would have to look for the human interest stories to keep things going.

But this day . , . . Larry pitched 7 two hit innings. Sam hit a home run and that was enough to for a Brewers win.

"A grand start to the season," Betsy tweeted, attaching pictures of both Sam and Larry.

"Too soon to tell," Joe said, from behind her.

"That's not the point." Betsy said. "It's opening day. They're on pace for 162 wins. Sam's on pace for 162 home runs."

"I'll alert the record books," Joe said.

And Betsy grinned up at him "Come out with us tonight," she said.

But Joe backed away. "I have a deadline."

"After that, then," Betsy said. 

Joe smiled. "Sometime, maybe. It's a long season."

*

Betsy frowned at her laptop. She tried to use the frequent flights to work on her various personal projects, but how did you make the words come? She squirmed in her seat. She knew she'd get used to the travel time, but, oh, she hated it. All the hours stuck in an airplane seat. Pretending to pay attention to the seat belt alert. At least she got to travel with the team on these chartered flights. She _almost_ thought of Joe on his commercial fight, but quickly shut off the thought and instead walked up the aisle to sit next to Tib, who was back with the team in between scouting trips.

"What do you think?" Betsy asked, taking a peek at Tib's laptop.

"Nothing for public consumption," Tib said.

"I'm not going to tweet out drafts picks."

Tib sighed, and put her head down on her laptop. "It's not that. My inbox is full of high school coaches telling me I just _have_ to see their player. They'll tell me all about him over a nice meal."

"Sorry," Betsy said.

Tib was little and blonde, and coaches around the country thought they could wrap her around their fingers. Take her out to dinner, buy a few drinks, and Tib would recommend their player to the Brewers. None of them knew that Tib had studied sabermetrics since middle school and could spot her own prospects, thank you very much.

"I wish they would just let me do my job." 

And Tib sighed and went back to work.

*

"You should do a story on me," Sam said. It was the last day of the road trip and Betsy had made her way down to the locker room. No pictures here, but she found it useful to get the feel of the team. 

With their 13-2 start, moods were high. Sam was badgering Joe to write a story about him. Betsy liked Sam. He was always cheerful and could be counted on for a good quote, even when the Brewers were in the midst of a double digit road trip.

But, of course, most eyes were on Larry right now. He was off to a 3-0 start. So Joe was waiting by his locker, along with a few national reporters.

"I can tell you secrets of his routine," Sam said. "All the little tips and tricks I give him."

Joe tilted his head. "Okay, how about it?"

"What?" Sam asked, taking a step back.

"Tell me about your routine," Joe said. "You caught each of his starts. Tell me about it."

"Hey," Sam said, "I'm just a catcher. A washed up prospect."

"You're barely 30," Joe said.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. "Okay then, but you gotta promise me the cover page."

Joe shook his head. "Cover of the sports page."

"Good enough."

Later, Betsy read the story and wanted to shake her fists at Joe Willard. He was so good. While everyone else chased down the superstar, Joe talked to the guy who helped make it work. And, Betsy suspected, he had a lot more to do with it than most suspected. Sam had always called a good game and, with Larry, it was like he had taken it to the next level. He had hit a home run in each of the games Larry had pitched, too. Nobody cared a lot about a thirty year old catcher, but . . . if they read Joe's story, maybe that would change.

*

"It was a very good story," Betsy said to Joe.

It was the next day, a Sunday, and the game had been tied at 1 since the first. "Thank you," Joe said. He gave her one quick glance and then went back to his laptop.

Betsy sighed and took a picture. "Joe Willard, hard at work."

"Don't post that," Joe said.

"Why not?" Betsy asked. "People like the behind-the-scenes stuff."

"Just . . . don't," Joe said.

Betsy shrugged and walked out of the press box. She liked to walk the stands and get the feel of the crowd. Today was still pretty chilly, and the crowds were sparse, so she found her way to Tacy.

"Hey!" Tacy said, looking up from her scorecard.

"I hate Joe Willard."

"No, you don't," Tacy said. She and Betsy had been best friends since they were five years old and Tacy always knew what Betsy was really thinking.

Betsy sighed and sat in the empty seat next to Tacy. "I don't get it. He's new. You'd think he'd be eager to make friends, especially with people his own age."

"Maybe he's shy," Tacy said, who knew something about shyness.

Betsy shook her head. "I think he's just focused on work. It's like he has something to prove."

*

If he had something to prove, he sure proved it those first few months of the season. He broke stories and mastered Twitter. He got his interview with Larry and even got Harry to sit down with him. And he was good.

Maybe even better than her, though it wasn't a fair comparison, was it? She had to keep her tweets and Facebook posts short. It was a different skill.

Betsy sighed. Joe looked over at her. "It's only the 11th," he said.

"It's not that," Betsy said. Then she shook her head. "I love extra inning games."

Joe actually looked away from the field. "You can say that because you don't have a deadline."

"I alway did," Betsy said. "Tacy and I used to stay up late texting each other, hoping the games would go least hit twenty innings."

"This can't go twenty," Joe said. "I need sleep."

"There's coffee," Betsy said.

And they grinned at each other for a long minute.

Then Joe glanced back at the screen. "Twelfth inning," he said, and Betsy looked down at the field to see Cab stepping up to bat.

*

Hours and hours later, Betsy tweeted, "Time to get out the ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Joe asked her.

"You really _do_ follow me!" Betsy exclaimed.

Joe stared at his computer screen. "I told you. It's a job requirement."

"To answer your question," Betsy said. "It's weird baseball and we eat ice cream."

"Okay, now I have a new question," Joe said.

"Weird baseball!" Betsy said. "When it goes past midnight in the timezone it's played in."

"And this calls for ice cream?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"See, you can't ask questions like that," Betsy said. "There is no answer."

"Okay," Joe said, and then paused. "Soft serve at the inning break."

And Betsy knew she was blushing.

*

"Has he ever pitched before?" Joe asked, in the bottom of the 18th.

"How should I know?" Betsy yawned.

Sam had taken the mound. The Brewers had blown through their bullpen, so it was down to Sam.

"Oh!" Betsy said. "I need to tweet this."

"Position pitching alert!" she tweeted and tagged @70MPHFastball.

A moment later, the stats woman came into the media box and informed them that this was Sam's first professional pitching appearance.

Sam managed to get the first batter to strike out and then loaded the bases.

"Come on," Joe said, so softly Betsy barely heard him.

"No cheering in the press box," she said.

Joe stiffened and Betsy quickly started talking, "I'm just teasing--do you always have to--" and she broke off confused.

"I don't mean--" Joe started, and then broke off. "I like Sam. He's a good guy."

From Joe, this felt like high praise.

And when Sam got the next batter to hit into a double play, Betsy reached over and, lightning quick, squeezed Joe's arm.

*

And of course Sam led off the next inning.

_Sam leads off the 19th. Can he win his own game?_

"I'm rooting for it," Joe said.

"You can reply to the tweet, you know," Betsy said. 

Joe shrugged. "It doesn't really fit the newspaper."

Doesn't fit him, he meant. Joe had yet to dip his toes into the lighter side of social media. Whereas Betsy was busy bantering with fans and Winona and Dennie kept their joint twitter account fun, Joe's was full of facts.

Joe leaned forward in his seat. The count was 3-1 . . . and with one swing of the bat, Sam sent the ball into the night.

Joe and Betsy both jumped in their seats--almost, not quite cheering in the press box--and exchanged sheepish glances.

Betsy put her hand next to his "Secret high five?"

And Joe softly slapped her hand.

*

"Oh sure, now you all want to talk to me," Sam said post-game, when his locker was surrounded by reporters. 

"When was the last time you pitched?" Joe asked.

"Oh, I throw bullpens nightly, just in case."

Joe grinned. "How does Stewie feel about that?"

"Hey, we're fans of versatile players here."

And then another reporter broke in, asking Sam how it felt, and Sam settled down and gave the cliche answers every player could recite in his sleep.

Betsy stuck around after the group of reporters left.

"That was awesome, Sam," she said.

"Thanks." Sam slumped against the wall. "Wow, I'm tired."

"You?" Betsy asked. Sam was always full of energy. Even at one AM, it was almost a shock to see him calm down.

Sam rubbed his eyes. "Um, okay, I am tired enough and in a good enough mood to just ask this--can you give me Carney's number?"

"Not without her permission," Betsy said automatically, and then stopped. Sam wanted Carney's number?

"Can you ask her then?" Sam asked. "Please?"

He tried to smile at her, but he still looked tired. 

So she nodded.

She wasn't really expecting an answer when she stepped away and texted Carney--it was three AM in Milwaukee after all--but Carney texted back a quick "yes."

And when Betsy gave Sam the numbers to punch into his phone, he perked up and was once again the energetic Sam she knew.

"Sam?" she texted Carney.

"Shut up" was the immediate response.

*

After Sam's big day, the team decided to push him for the All Star game, so Betsy spent a lot of time tweeting gifs and facts about him. She posted various angles of his home run to Facebook and broke down his pitching.

"I am not sure you're allowed to do that in the press box," Joe said. 

Betsy had a stack of ballots next to her and was filling them out. "I am just being a good team employee."

"I'm reporting you," Joe said

And Betsy was pretty sure he was joking and pretty sure she wouldn't actually get in trouble for it, but she left the press box anyway. Carney and Tacy had box seats next door--and who, exactly, had gotten them those tickets?--so Betsy joined them.

Tacy reached over and started filling out ballots. Betsy handed one to Carney. "You can't vote for Larry, but maybe there's someone else you could vote for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Carney said.

"Sure now and is that for certain?" Tacy said. Betsy had told her all about Sam's request and she was happy to have the attention off of her and Harry for once.

"I will vote for all Brewers, as all good fans do," Carney said.

Betsy snapped a picture and tweeted. _Fans hard at work for our team._

*

As she walked out of the park that day, Betsy fell in step with Joe, and saw him snag a stack of ballots.

"Joe Willard!" she said. "Don't tell me you're going to vote."

"Not in the press box," he said, and Betsy grinned at him. 

"Come out with us. We're going to sit in Starbucks and vote."

And Joe fell in line behind her as if he'd never said no to one of her invitations.

*

"Are you voting for yourself?" Joe asked Sam.

"Off the record?" Sam asked.

"Does this _look_ like it's on the record?" Joe asked, gesturing at the Starbucks table full of ballots and coffee cups.

Sam sat next to Carney, who was looking very pretty in pink. Tacy and Harry were there, too, and Betsy had worried momentarily that Sam wouldn't want to hang out with his general manager, but of course, Sam Hutchinson had never had an awkward moment in his life. Harry either, for that matter.

"I'm voting for my players," Harry said. "You can put that on the record."

Joe just kept punching ballots. "I respect your right to keep your vote secret."

Betsy snapped a picture. "This is for Tib, not Twitter." Tib was still on the road. Her schedule had slightly slowed down after the draft, but she was still on the road most of the time. 

"Cast some for me!" Tib texted back.

*

Sam didn't make the All Star Game, but he did make the Final Vote. He would be competing against four other players for the last NL All Star spot. Which meant Betsy had to come up with a clever hashtag for him _right now_.

"Ugh," Betsy said. She closed her laptop lid and put her head on top of it. "This sucks."

"How about Sam the Man?" Joe asked. Everyone else had left the room after Betsy's tenth complaint, but he'd just sat there working on his computer. (She could never be sure if he was listening to her.)

Betsy sat up slowly. "That's so stupid. I love it!"

And her fingers started flying over her keyboard. Five hashtags later, she looked up to see Joe looking at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Joe said. He turned back to his computer.

A second later, Betsy checked her feed. "Brewers are going with #SamtheMan for Sam Hutchinson and the final vote. Every tweet with that hashtag counts."

"You know that means you just voted for him, right?" Betsy said.

"I know."

"You know, that could be evidence against your careful objectivity."

"I'm just reporting the facts," Joe said. "That's the hashtag."

"And a hashtag is a vote."

"Well," Joe said. "That's out of my control."

And they smiled at each other for a long time.

*

_#SamtheMan is the man!_

_#SamtheMan#SamtheMan#SamtheMan#SamtheMan_

_#SamtheMan_

_Remember, the Brewers hashtag for Sam Hutchinson is #SamtheMan_

_#SamtheMan_

"So how's the campaign going?" Tib asked. She'd skyped Betsy from a small town in New Jersey (where everyone was looking for the next Mike Trout).

"Joe keeps tweeting the hashtag!" Betsy said. "He says he's just keeping the fans informed, but don't you think they're informed enough already?"

"Um, probably?" Tib said.

"And Carney!" Betsy said. "I thought she and Larry would pick things up again, but she posted so many hashtags yesterday, she went to Twitter jail!"

"She can't vote for Larry," Tib said. "He's a pitcher."

Tib was always pointing out things like that.

"I know," Betsy said. "But she's posting more than I am and it's my _job_."

Tib smiled. "I'm tweeting when I can."

"How's the trip?"

"Oh," Tib said. "Nothing but high school coaches who want to pat me on the head and tell me how cute I am."

Betsy made a face. "Sorry."

*

Sam won the final vote. He credited Carney with it, though only in private.

"Couldn't have done it without my most faithful Tweeter," Sam said. "Twitter-er? Why is there no good word for this?"

"Probably because it's not a thing," Joe said.

Larry was named the All Star starter on the same day Sam was named the final vote winner. Betsy, Tacy, and Tib convinced Carney to go out with them that night.

"Your two boys in the All Star game!" Betsy exclaimed.

"They're not my boys," Carney said.

"Either?" Tib asked. "Because you _did_ tweet an awful lot of #SamtheMan's."

"I'm just being a good fan!" Carney said.

"What does Larry think?" Betsy asked.

Carney took a long sip of her drink. "I know you all think me and Larry are this great romance, but people move on."

"To handsome catchers who threw you balls during games?"

Carney blushed. "Sam and I are friends."

"Anyway," Tib said. "'You should give us some gossip because Tacy here won't tell us anything."

"There's nothing to tell!" Tacy said.

Which was what she always said and Betsy figured she was telling the truth. Tacy had never dated before, never talked about boys like the rest of them did. Being in a serious relationship didn't seem to change that.

"Well," Betsy said. "Here's to the single life."

And she held out her wine glass to Tib, who clinked it.

*

After the All Star Game, in which Larry started, Sam had a walk, and Tacy, Tib, and Betsy spent the whole game teasing Carney about her two boys, the season sped up, as it always did. Betsy began carrying her phone in her hands at all times, not wanting to miss any trades.

"Are you sure you don't have any tips?" she demanded of Tacy, who would always blush, and say she didn't know anything.

(Betsy and Tacy had always told each other everything, but Tacy was in a new world of serious relationships. Did she have secrets with Harry now?)

She took to sending Joe direct messages on Twitter asking if he'd heard anything about trades until he finally messaged her, _You know we could do this by text, right?_ and gave her his phone number.

She put it into her phone and opened up a new message and then stared at it for a long time before sending a quick "hi." And then she put down her phone for the first time in ages, folded her laundry, changed her sheets, and emptied the dishwasher before picking it up again.

Joe had replied with a simple _Hi_.

Betsy smiled at her phone for a long time after that.

*

_How many trades do you think Harry will make tomorrow?_ It was near midnight on July 30th and Betsy was wide awake in her hotel room.

_Either zero or fifty_. Joe responded.

Betsy responded with a laughing emoji because, yes, Joe was correct.

_Tacy won't tell me anything._

_I even tried to get something out of her_

_Did you?_

_She smiled, and told me to have a good day_

Betsy replied with a smiling emoji. She was so glad Joe was becoming comfortable with her friends. He said yes most times now when she asked him to join them post game or on rare off days. He was falling into their group dynamic easily.

Betsy had put her phone down and was reaching for her ereader when it buzzed again.

_Hearing they're having talks with the Mariners and Yankees. Don't know the specifics._

And Betsy smiled because nobody ever gave her any trade tips.

_Thank you!!!_

*

"That's all I know," Joe said the next day. The Brewers were on the road, so they were hanging out in the guest press room at the stadium. 

"It's not fair," Betsy said. "Harry shouldn't be this good at keeping secrets yet. He's a brand new GM."

"I'm just glad he can make things happen," Joe said. "I figured--uh--that maybe it would be a slow year."

"Ha!" Betsy said. "Were you going to say something non-neutral?"

"Of course not," Joe said.

"Like, maybe that you thought this was going to be a terrible team?"

"I never said that."

"It's okay," Betsy said. "These last few years have been tough. Harry is . . . well, I guess Tacy could do worse."

Winona poked her head into the room. "Harry going to interrupt my broadcast?"

"Probably," Betsy said, and looked over at Joe.

He spread his hands. "I don't know anything."

And then his phone buzzed and all three of them stared at it. Joe picked it up, looked at Betsy and Winona and said, "Get ready."

Joe typed into Twitter while Betsy and Winona looked over his shoulder.

Betsy gasped. "Wow, he actually pulled it off."

Harry had managed to get the Mariners' hitting star, Ralph Maddox, in a three way trade with the Yankees. 

"You're sure?" Betsy asked.

"Would I tweet it if I wasn't?"

"I'll start warming my Twitter fingers," Betsy said. "What did we give up?"

And Joe named a couple of prospects.

Betsy made a face. "Tib will hate to hear that." One of them was one of her very first recommendations as a scout.

"Good trade, though," Joe said.

"They might actually make the playoffs, Joe," Betsy said.

"They're two back."

"And have plenty of division games ahead."

*

"Okay, he can't possibly have made another trade," Betsy said, a few hours later, when Joe's phone buzzed again.

"You can't actually be surprised," Joe said.

"I'm _tired_ ," Betsy said. "And we still have the entire game to get through."

"It's still twenty minutes to the trade deadline," Joe said. "Harry could make ten more trades in that time."

"I'm going to get put in Twitter jail," Betsy said.

*

Five hours and two trades later, the game finally began. Thanks to the trades, the Brewers were playing with a 23 man roster. They'd traded their fifth starter, so it was a bullpen start.

"This sucks," Betsy said. "When will Maddox get here?"

"Twitter says his plane landed five minutes ago."

"Twitter is creepy," Betsy said.

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Then you better get a new career."

"I disseminate information," Betsy said. "I don't stalk people!"

"You're good at it, "Joe said, and the compliment knocked Betsy off her feet. 

She knew she was blushing and managed to say, "Thank you," before going back to her computer.

*

The Brewers finished their road trip 6-2. They were half a game back in the division and Milwaukee was full of Brewers' gear and excitement.

Tacy was as proud as if she had made all the trades herself and Carney had taken to showing up in the clubhouse after games. She'd sit by Sam's locker and Betsy would watch the two of them. Carney and Larry would talk sometimes, but the spark wasn't there anymore and Betsy wondered how you knew when it went.

She asked Carney about it once, and Carney said that she had been sure she was in love with Larry once, but that time had changed them. They didn't really know each other anymore, but Sam . . . and then Carney stopped talking, too embarrassed to continue.

"I'm glad you're in town," Betsy said to Tib. "I feel like I never see Tacy or Carney anymore."

"Men," Tib said, and took a sip of her beer. 

"Let's get rid of them," Betsy said. But then her phone buzzed and Joe's name lit up and she stopped and smiled at it.

"Ha!" Tib said, snatching Betsy's phone from her. "You're one of them!"

"One of who?" Betsy asked.

"The-the men lovers!" Tib said. "You sit here pretending to be allll alone with me, but here's Joe Willard sending you texts!"

"We're friends."

"That's what Carney says about Sam," Tib said darkly. 

"He's very professional," Betsy said.

"Ha," Tib said again.

But it was true. Joe had lightened up a lot, but he always seemed to take a step back when they were getting close. Was it because she was a team employee? That the lines were blurry? She knew he and Sam hung out, so why couldn't he take that next step with her?

"It's okay," Tib said. "I have my job. Lots of men, telling me they have the best prospect that I have never heard of . . . trying to woo me into signing their nephew or best friend's kid . . . "

She sighed and finished the rest of her beer.

*

It was late August and the Brewers were down 9-1 in the sixth. Games like this happened to every team. It was just . . . . they were playing the Cubs, who led the division by half a game. If they won this game, they would take first place. If they lost, they would be behind by 1 ½ games. It was one of those turning points beat writers looked for.

"Yeah," Joe said, when Betsy said this to him. "But you never really know. It's just one game. There are 30 games left. Lots can happen."

"But it's so discouraging," Betsy said. "Every time they come close to the division lead, something happens."

"They've got a good core here," Joe said. "Even if it doesn't happen until this year . . . ."

"Wait till next year," Betsy said. "Because we haven't been saying that for years."

Down below, someone scored and neither Betsy nor Joe bothered to post about it

"You should probably tweet about that," Joe said, pointing down at the field where Cab had just hit a two run home run.

"Yeah, yeah," Betsy said. "Now we're only behind by five.."

But she posted an image of the home run, making sure to point out how hard Cab had hit the ball.

Of course, in the next inning, the Cubs scored 2 more runs, so the Brewers lost almost all the ground they'd made up.

"What now, Mr. Optimism?" Betsy asked as the Brewers came up to bat.

"Mr. Realism," Joe said. "Bad games happen, even to good teams. The 116 win Mariners blew a 12 run lead."

As Joe regaled her with the tale, the Brewers kept on hitting. When Betsy next looked down, Sam was up to bat with the bases loaded.

"Bet you a dollar he strikes out," Betsy said. Sam had been slumping a bit since the All Star break.

"He won't," Joe said. "He's been doing all that extra work."

"Okay, ground out," Betsy said. "Or fly out."

"Poor Sam," Joe said. "He'll be devastated to learn you lack faith in him."

"Fine," Betsy said. "If he gets a hit, I'll owe you a dollar."

"If he hits a home run, I'll kiss you."

"Joe Willard!"

Joe looked straight into her eyes, with that challenging look of his.

And down below, Sam took the perfect swing.

Breath held, Joe and Betsy watched the ball soar into the night.

Betsy looked at Joe and Joe looked at Betsy.

"We, um, have a game to tweet about," Betsy said.

But Joe didn't take the out. "I keep my bargains, Ms. Ray. We'll talk after the game."

"Um," Betsy said. "They are only behind by three now."

And the world was suddenly full of hope.

*

But when the bottom of the 9th rolled around, the score hadn't changed and Betsy was starting to feel like her first instinct was right. This was a bad sign for the season. But then she looked at Joe and caught him looking at her and maybe there would be some kind of win tonight.

The Brewers managed to get one run in and when Sam stepped to the plate, the air was filled with magic. Betsy reached over and took Joe's hand.

"No flirting in the press box," Joe said, but he didn't let go.

And he squeezed her hand when Sam hit a home run, tying the game.

*

Betsy wanted to pace the press box, but she forced herself to remain still during the entire top of the 10th inning. They couldn't lose now. If they did, she would have to quit her job and go into hiding and avoid Joe Willard forever. But the Cubs didn't score.

She sent out a quick tweet. "Heading into the bottom of the tenth. Can the Brewers complete the magic?"

She watched Joe read the tweet and smile. (His tweet said, "All it takes is one to win.")

The Brewers quickly got two men on base and Maddox came up to bat. He hadn't hit very well since the trade. Joe had written a couple of articles about it, as had most of the baseball world. Tib said he had just been comfortable with the Mariners and wasn't used to the pressure of a playoff race.

Regardless, his poor hitting had been the subject of many sports radio conversations. And, once again, the season felt on the line as he came up to bat.

Betsy held perfectly still as she watched him toe the batter's box and cock his bat. She could hear Joe breathing next to her and all the stadium seemed to be holding their breath as Maddox let one ball go by . . . swung and missed . . . and then connected with one of those cracks that could be heard in every corner of the stadium.

She and Joe looked at each other, then both turned to their computers, jotted out quick tweets, looked at each other once more and walked out of the press box together.

The door closed behind them and Betsy could hear the cheers coming from throughout the stadium.

"Betsy," Joe said, and reached for her.

"Joe."

And she wound her arms around his neck and he leaned into her and kissed her. And in his kiss, Betsy felt all the promise of a brand new baseball season and the solidness of a team that won every year.

*

She didn't tell her friends what had happened, but the next night, Joe came out with them and didn't leave her side all night. Tacy gave her significant glances and Carney smiled at her.

And Tib texted her that she better tell them everything that happened.

And the Brewers won that game, too, so they were ahead by 1 ½ games.

*

"How does it feel making the playoffs for the first time?" Carney asked Sam, pretending to hold a microphone in front of his face. The Brewers had clinched and they were all celebrating in the clubhouse. 

Sam swung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her loudly. "Not as good as that."

Carney pushed at him, laughing. Across the room, Larry looked at them and smiled.

Betsy took videos and pictures and posted them as quickly as she could. Joe was interviewing players, but they had plans that night. Tacy was at Harry's side and had gotten drenched by a shower of gatorade.

And just when Betsy thought it couldn't get any more perfect, Tib called her.

"Betsy!" Tib said. "We won!"

"We won!"

"And," Tib said. "You won't believe what happened to me today. I got a call from a high school coach and I was so annoyed that I told him, 'you do NOT have the perfect prospect' and he said, 'how do you know?' And he was right! This kid is spectacular . . . and Betsy, this coach is pretty great, too."

And Betsy listened to Tib babble away as she watched her friends celebrate around the room. And all she could think of was the playoffs.

And, after the playoffs? The offseason, with Joe.


End file.
